Kicking Away the Ladder

"Yeah, it looks like this week will be difficult. Yes! With the Android 98 release only a week away, it's hard to maintain any work-life balance. I understand. I'll come next month with some good news, then. Yes, take care."

Yoo Jae-won let out a deep sigh of relief as he ended the call. He had answered the phone with considerable tension, and for good reason—the person on the other end was Fredrick Taylor II, Tiffany's maternal grandfather.

The call itself had been nothing ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of consequence. Fredrick had simply suggested they go horseback riding together next week. Recently, the old man had handed over many of the positions he once held to his youngest son, Jacob Taylor. The move had granted him far more free time than before, and he was now enjoying leisure activities he had never been able to pursue in the past.

While savoring that newfound leisure, he had also begun spending more time with Yoo Jae-won. The rest of Fredrick's family were too busy with their own affairs to spare even weekends, whereas Jae-won would always make time unless something truly unusual came up. On top of that, whenever Jae-won visited, Tiffany came along as well, letting the old man see both his granddaughter and grandson-in-law at once. As a result, Fredrick had begun seeking Jae-won out far more often. What used to be once or twice a month had now become three or four times.

Thanks to these meetings, Jae-won was gaining a genuine taste of life among America's highest elite. For Fredrick, the conversations offered vivid insights into the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠mysterious world of IT. It was quality time for both of them.

Unfortunately, not only next weekend but for the next several weeks, Jae-won would have no time to spare. The single most important event for ID Group was now right in front of them.

The launch of Android 98.

Nearly three years had passed since the release of the 95 version. The time had come to unveil a new Android operating system, and they had settled on the name 98.

What stood out about Android 98 was that it represented the lowest level of direct involvement from Yoo Jae-won in the entire history of the operating system.

His programming ability was universally acknowledged as the best in the world. Hackers had long since given up trying to crack the AES-256 encryption system. Instead, they focused on exploiting vulnerabilities in the Android operating system itself or on tricking careless users into installing spyware that could steal passwords directly. Since breaking the encryption was impossible, password theft had become the dominant form of modern hacking.

Even so, successful breaches were almost unheard of. Thanks to the Secure Area, the master key would not leak unless the user was extraordinarily careless. Besides, stealing a single individual's password simply wasn't profitable anymore.

Android 98 took the security features introduced in 95 and deepened them significantly. The system had also been optimized to fully utilize the power of far stronger hardware. Using that raw computing strength, entirely new functions that had never existed before were added as well.

Still, at its core it remained an expansion of the 95 kernel system, so there had been little need for Jae-won to intervene directly. Starting with version 98, the Gaming Edition now supported multiprocessors with two or more cores and up to four gigabytes of memory. Entry-level computers currently shipped with 256 megabytes, while only the highest-end models offered one gigabyte. Even so, memory capacity was growing faster than expected, so they decided to support four gigabytes even in the free Gaming Edition. The required advanced memory access technology already existed in the Enterprise Edition, so the team simply ported the code over.

Most other features followed the same pattern. They had already been implemented in the Enterprise Edition, so the developers only needed to slightly downgrade them for the Gaming Edition.

That did not mean 98 was merely a watered-down version of the Enterprise Edition. Several genuinely new features had been introduced. Three of them were significant enough to serve as major marketing points.

The most immediately noticeable was a fully 3D-accelerated desktop environment. Users could open multiple video files simultaneously or launch dozens of Explorer windows without any lag whatsoever, all thanks to hardware 3D acceleration.

The next major addition was version 3.0 of AFS, Android's proprietary file system. The term "directory" had been replaced with the more user-friendly "folder," and file management was now far more efficient and intuitive. The new indexing and tagging system meant that no matter how many hard drives were installed or how much data was stored, any file could be located within a single second.

The final pillar was enhanced accessibility. New functions allowed even those with poor vision or complete blindness to use the computer effectively. Options included high-contrast display modes and a TTS system that read text aloud in natural-sounding voices.

Most of these features had been created by Android's own talented programmers. The TTS software itself had come from a company Jae-won had previously angel-invested in, so they had simply purchased the rights.

What Jae-won needed to focus on was the overall polish and completeness of Android 98. By using the system himself, he would catch the subtle issues that developers and beta testers had missed and produce the final gold master. This went far beyond fixing typos. He was hunting for vulnerabilities that the world's most creative and dangerous hackers might discover through completely unexpected methods.

On top of that, the simultaneous global launch required him to oversee package production, distribution networks, marketing campaigns, presentation rehearsals, and countless other details. For the time being, pleasant afternoons with his father-in-law and grandfather-in-law would have to wait.

While meticulously probing Android 98 for weaknesses, Jae-won suddenly noticed his eyes growing tired and his entire body stiffening. When he glanced outside, the sky had already darkened and stars were beginning to appear one by one.

"Ugh..."

He stretched, and his spine and forearms popped loudly. Though his mind still burned with limitless passion, even his young body was beginning to protest the relentless overwork. What had once been a strict eight-hour workday had become an ingrained pattern of much longer sessions, making the accumulated fatigue hit that much harder.

The clock showed it was already well past normal dinner time.

"It's mealtime."

Even someone working at this intensity needed occasional breaks. Jae-won headed to the dining room to fill his stomach first. The chef had prepared dinner before leaving. A full Korean spread had been laid out, though the rice and soup were absent. He scooped an appropriate portion from the rice cooker and soup pot and began eating alone.

As he ate, he picked up his personal cell phone and checked for missed calls or messages. Jae-won maintained several phones under his own name, each assigned to different purposes according to their numbers. He had separate business lines for North America and Korea. The Korean business phone was the one that had received the call from the Blue House last time. While the Blue House staff, United People's Party members, and certain reporters believed it was his personal number, it was strictly for work.

Of course, he also kept a completely private phone known only to a handful of truly close people. The device he had just taken out was that one.

Fortunately, there were only a few text messages and no missed calls. They seemed to understand how busy he was these days and had refrained from contacting him.

The other numbers, however, were receiving a flood of calls. There were so many that he had handed complete control to Chief of Staff Kim Dae-seok for filtering, only receiving the most important ones. Naturally, every single call was related to the IMF.

After finishing his solitary meal, Jae-won placed the empty dishes in the dishwasher and returned to his study.

"Hmm. Maybe I'll just check the news quickly."

Still reluctant to dive straight back into work, he opened the web browser in Android 98. The moment he clicked the globe icon, the Nextcom news page loaded instantly. Both the American and Korean versions appeared at once, another benefit of the major update.

The browser included with ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠version 98 had received extensive improvements. One of the most significant was tabbed browsing. Anyone who used the internet had experienced the need to open multiple sites simultaneously. Until now, that had required launching several separate browser windows, which wasted precious system resources. Tabbed browsing solved that problem elegantly, minimizing waste while keeping the screen clean and organized.

As the internet grew and countless third-party browsers competed, Jae-won had expected someone would eventually implement tabs. When no one did, he once again took the initiative himself.

Thanks to that feature, both the U.S. and Korean news pages opened simultaneously. Naturally, Jae-won turned to the Korean page first.

As expected, the dominant stories were all economic. The headline about the KOSDAQ falling below 100 was displayed in the largest, boldest font. The meaning was dire. An index of 100 meant prices had fallen even lower than when KOSDAQ first began trading. The bubble had not merely burst; it had been completely erased.

Kim Lab, the flagship stock of the KOSDAQ, had been cut in half. Despite the imminent release of Android 98 serving as positive news, the stock had hit the lower limit repeatedly.

"The bankruptcy rumors refuse to die down," Jae-won muttered.

The Korean news sites painted a clear picture of what happened when a nation's economy collapsed. In addition to the bankruptcies already mentioned, the articles showed the civilian government desperately trying to repair the barn after the cow had already escaped. Unfortunately, it was far too late. These measures should have been taken much earlier. Opening the doors so wide now only invited hedge funds that had been patiently waiting for the perfect moment.

The instant the government abandoned its defense of the exchange rate, hedge fund profits would be maximized. Abolishing the fluctuation band was nothing short of a complete surrender.

"Hmm. It's about time to step in."

Jae-won had decided to enter the Korean market once the won exchange rate climbed above 1,600. During the worst of the surge, it had exceeded 2,000 won at times. Trying to catch the absolute peak or bottom often led to mistakes, so he chose to act early.

The real question was the method. How he intervened would dramatically change the shape of the new game board.

He was considering two main approaches. The top priority was direct negotiation with the IMF. In simple terms, Jae-won would supply the funds the IMF was supposed to provide Korea, then act as the IMF's representative to personally oversee the country's restructuring.

It might sound unrealistic, but it was not impossible. The IMF currently had no money to spare. Korea was nearly the final domino to fall in the Asian financial crisis. While Jae-won planned to expand the situation to include Japan, many experts believed Korea would be the last. That meant numerous East Asian nations had already received bailout funds ahead of them. Having already lent out so much money, the IMF was now struggling to gather sufficient funds for Korea.

The IMF had promised $55 ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠billion in total support, yet only $2 billion had actually arrived. For Korea, which needed to repay foreign debt immediately, the aid barely wet their lips while their throat continued to burn.

In this situation, if Jae-won contributed roughly $10 billion to the IMF and designated it strictly for emergency Korean relief—with a clear repayment schedule—Managing Director Camdessus would undoubtedly welcome the move. It would preserve the IMF's dignity while extinguishing the immediate fire in East Asia.

The second option carried more risk. It involved listing ID Technology on the Korean stock exchange.

The current stature of ID Technology was beyond words. From ID Office to cutting-edge technologies, cloud computing that formed the backbone of the internet, and even mobile phones and computers, ID Technology had surpassed even Android Corporation within the ID Group.

If ID Technology announced it was selling shares, people on Wall Street would line up to buy them even if it meant taking on debt. The number of companies and wealthy individuals who had already approached them could fill a school playground with room to spare. If such a company listed its shares, money would pour in from every direction.

Listing in Korea would reduce that number somewhat. The North Korea risk and the foreign exchange crisis carried roughly equal weight as deterrents. Even so, the listing would not fail. When Jae-won had discreetly asked trusted contacts, the response had been unanimous: they would invest no matter where ID Technology listed.

Even the most conservative valuation placed ID Technology well above Android Corporation. Wall Street analysts estimated its value between $300 billion and $400 billion. That figure represented only its current asset value. Once listed and its fundamentals were confirmed, no one could predict how high the stock might climb.

Listing such a company on the Korean market was like using a dragon-slaying sword to catch a chicken. Yet there was no better way to draw in dollars without offering anything in return. To purchase shares of a Korean-listed ID Technology, buyers would need Korean won. That meant countless people would bring large amounts of dollars into the country to exchange for currency, directly easing the foreign exchange crisis.

Furthermore, it represented the perfect method to overcome the crisis while establishing powerful influence over Korea.

Both plans were core elements of the master strategy Jae-won had meticulously crafted across his previous life. He harbored zero doubt about their success.

He had already informed ID Technology President Allen, Remington, and Vice Chairman Choi Kang-wook of these plans and instructed them to prepare in secret. They would be ready to execute the moment the won reached 1,600 against the dollar.

"Hm? What's this?"

As he continued scanning the Korean news, one unusual article caught his attention.

It was news of impending executions. According to the article, President Kim Young-sam had signed the execution warrants himself, declaring he would bear all responsibility. What stood out, however, was the number of prisoners. Historically, this should have been Korea's final round of executions. Afterward, debate over the death penalty would intensify, and as trade with the EU expanded, the government would effectively abolish capital punishment by simply never signing the orders.

Because the event carried considerable historical weight, Jae-won remembered the exact number clearly. It should have been twenty-three people. Yet this time, one additional name had been added, bringing the total to twenty-four.

"Who is it?"

Jae-won wondered about the identity of the extra prisoner. He did not need to investigate deliberately. The person's identity would soon be revealed, exploding into the largest controversy of the 1997 presidential election. It would become a massive scandal that ultimately swept up even Yoo Jae-won, who had been minding his own business in the United States.